Fíli stares in horror, mingled with desperate hope, at the dwarf crouched in front of him. Kíli, if it is his lost brother, stares up at him, his dark eyes wide and panicked. Then he scrambles back, tucking the Jewel away and tugging his hood over his head so that his face is lost in the darkness of it.

"Don't look at me," he whimpers.

Everything else is forgotten. The dead dragon, Thorin, Adra, Nori and Dwalin. Even Bilba, although she is crouching next to the cowering form of his brother and talking softly. It has to be Kíli. He has been gone for eight years but Fíli would never forget that face, or those eyes. He would recognise his brother if he were blind, he thinks, and a desperate rage fills him at the thought that Kíli has been alive all this time and held captive. He knows his brother. Kíli would never willingly have gone with the White Wizard or taken that which was not his to take. Not without some sort of force being applied.

"Is that your name?" He hears Bilba ask. "Kíli? Is that your name?"

"It was," his brother whispers and Fíli falls to his knees, "before the wizard took it."

"How could he take your name?" The hobbit asks, reaching for Kíli who shrinks away from her.

"He took everything," Kíli whispers. "Why shouldn't he have taken my name as well?"

"Because it's your name," Fíli insists. "And you are my brother and if I had thought for a second that you-"

"There you are," Nori appears over a hill of gold. "We need to get you back, Thorin's orders." Sharp green eyes fall on the cowering figure of Fíli's terrified brother. "You found him, then," all the warmth in Nori's voice is gone and Fíli flinches.

The spy takes a step towards Kíli, obviously intending to look upon the face of the one who would dare to steal the Arkenstone, and Kíli scrambles away. Fíli begins to step forward, but it is Bilba who reaches Kíli first, placing herself between his brother and Nori with a hard look that would not be out of place on Thorin's face.

"Leave him alone," she orders and Nori pauses. "He didn't want to take it, and he's clearly terrified. Leave him be until we've spoken to Thorin. It's a lot more complicated than we realised."

Something like understanding crosses Nori's face as he glances at Fíli. There is pity in those green eyes as well, almost as though he has realised what it took seeing his brother's face for Fíli to conclude.

"Very well," Nori says, "I'll tell the others, but don't take too long, Thorin and Gandalf want us out of this treasury and well away from the effects of Smaug's lingering spells."

"We'll be as quick as we can," Fíli promises. "We just need to take it slowly for his sake." He gestures to Kíli who is now clinging to the edge of Bilba's cloak.

Nori nods sharply and clambers back over the piles of gold grumbling under his breath.

"You know, then," Kíli whispers once Nori is gone, "that Uncle Thor isn't who he always said he was?"

"I know," Fíli crouches near him, still keeping his distance and watching the way Bilba hovers over his brother in a manner similar to a protective mother. "He explained it all to me himself and took me to meet some of our father's family. One of our cousins is with us."

"The White Wizard said he stole us and murdered our parents," Kíli mumbles.

"He lied, Kíli," Fíli reaches a hand out, willing his brother to come to him. "I swear it to you, he lied. I've met dwarrow who knew our father, and elves who knew our mother. Please, come and see him. Come and listen to him. I won't let them hurt you, I won't let anyone hurt you again."

Bilba doesn't say anything, although Fíli can clearly see that she is near tears, she simply moves to stand beside him with her hand on his shoulder in silent support. He cannot see his brother's face, cannot see his eyes so that he can read his thoughts in them as he always used to, but he isn't sure that he is ready to have to reconcile that scarred and terrified visage with the face of his memories that was always so bright and full of life. It feels like it takes forever for Kíli to move, to reach out a hand that trembles and take the one offered, but eventually it happens. Fíli wants to drag his brother into his arms, hold him close and never let him go, but some instinct tells him such an action would be unwelcome. He settles for helping his brother get to his feet, almost regretting the way that Bilba withdraws her gentle offer of comfort to him to take Kíli's other hand in her own and squeeze gently. Kíli flinches back as they take their first steps forward, and there is the clink and rattle of chains that restrict his steps to a brisk shuffle. They keep their pace slow, helping him where his movement is too restricted to make the trip easy.

"I was about to come looking for you," Dwalin says as they finally make it to the exit.

"We need to get his chains off if we want to move faster," Fíli replies, gesturing to his brother's ankles even though they are covered by the long robe.

"He might take it as the right moment to try and scarper," Dwalin disagrees. Kíli flinches back from the hard glare and Fíli feels something in him crack. Kíli once adored Dwalin. "Better not take the risk until Thorin says otherwise."

"He won't try and run, Dwalin," Fíli snaps.

"I don't know what he's said to convince you, lad," Dwalin begins.

"He didn't say anything, he didn't need to!" Fíli argues.

"Fíli," Bilba reaches over to place a hand over his, putting herself between Dwalin and Kíli once more and his brother seems to attempt to shrink behind her. "The quicker we get him to your uncle, the quicker we can get this whole mess sorted."

"Let me take him," Dwalin orders.

"No," Bilba replies. "He stays with us. I promised him I'd stay with him, I'm not leaving."

Dwalin gives them both a perplexed look but throws his hands in the air and waves them in front of him. They make their way to where the others have gathered as quickly as they can, holding Kíli's hands tightly as his own grip gets firmer the closer they come to the others. He stops a few times and Fíli can hear Dwalin muttering under his breath, but he doesn't let his uncle's old friend near enough to Kíli to touch him, just talks softly to his brother and assures him that it will all be well, promises him that Thorin is not the monster the White Wizard made him into and that he will be relieved to see Kíli and as filled with guilt as Fíli is for not realising that he had been alive all this time.

Thorin looks terrible when they reach him, grey and exhausted, as though he has aged a hundred years in the seconds that it took to kill Smaug.

"Uncle!" Fíli cries in alarm, wanting to rush to Thorin's side but not willing to release his grip on Kíli just yet.

"Thank Mahal," Thorin breathes, "I had worried when you weren't found straight away."

"I didn't mean to worry you," Fíli admits. "It just took us a bit longer to persuade him to come with us," he gestures to Kíli, who is still clinging to his hand. He can't see his brother's face, his head is bowed so that the hood hides him completely, but he can feel his trembling and hear his quick, almost panicked, breaths.

"You're going to have to take the hood down," Bilba says softly, obviously reading the same demand in Thorin's face and knowing that it will not end well if he barrels in, as he is so often wont to do, with a hard expression and harsher words. "Would you like to do it, or would you prefer it if Fíli or I did it?"

"You, Bilba," Kíli breathes, almost too quietly for Thorin to hear, and Fíli feels momentarily jealous that he would choose the hobbit over his own brother, then he feels Kíli grip his hand harder still and he realises it is because his brother doesn't want to let go.

"Alright," Bilba agrees without question, "but you'll have to bend a little, even for a dwarf you're ridiculously tall." For a horrible minute Fíli thinks that Kíli will kneel and obviously Bilba feels the same. "Just bend," she whispers, far too quietly for anyone other than the three of them to hear.

Kíli obeys, bending just enough at the waist for Bilba to take down his hood. Fíli doesn't watch, preferring to keep his attention on his uncle, who has sat up in his nest of furs to watch proceedings with a hard eye and grim turn to his lips. It means that Fíli sees the moment his uncle realises that the one stood next to them is Kíli. He sees the moment that cool composure turns into anguish and self-recrimination. He watches his uncle struggle to his feet and sees his agony when Kíli pulls back and away.

"Kíli," Thorin breathes, "Dushin-Mizim." He staggers forward another step and it is all Fíli can do to keep Kíli from bolting.

"Perhaps we should give Kíli a moment," Bilba suggests, "and I think you should sit back down. Killing dragons looks like it's exhausting work. Then we need to work out how this happened."

Fíli thinks his uncle will argue, but blue eyes that are full of heartache turn onto the hobbit lass, watching the way that she hovers between the brothers and their uncle, watching as Fíli reaches his free hand out to her and she accepts without thought. Then he nods, steps back and sinks into his furs once more. Kíli is slower to relax and his trembling doesn't stop, although it lessens when he draws his hood back up over his head.

It would be easier to calm his brother, of course, if Gandalf had not chosen that exact moment to walk into the room.


A.N: Butchered Khuzdul:

Dushun Mizim: 'Dark Jewel/ Black Opal' depending on which translation you look at.

Last chapter before Christmas now. Got so much to do in the next few days. That's mummy life I suppose. Nadelek Lowen!